


Gifts for Salt Wives

by Avery_Fontaine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Depression, Elseworlds, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, House Drumm, House Greyjoy, House Tyrell, Ironborn - Freeform, Kidnapping, Love, Marriage, Original Character(s), Pirates, Raiders, Rape Culture, Salt Wives, Side Story, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, evil mothers, iron islands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 07:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10301588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Fontaine/pseuds/Avery_Fontaine
Summary: One-off story about a girl captured by ironborn and made a salt wife to an unwilling boy.





	

I am ten-and-four when he takes me. I was bringing butter home when they attacked. Fifty or sixty of them with axes and swords attacked our small village. I ran home, and yelled for my father. 

Mother was captured by a large man but fought him off. I saw them struggling and the man eventually stabbed her. I would ask for revenge if a young miller's boy didn't kill the man with a knife. I am not sure what happened to him.

I found myself surrounded by them, and I cried even louder. One of them hit my face with the butt of an axe and the world went black. 

The next thing I remembered was hearing an older boy arguing about me. I was being dragging by my arms by two men.

"She's but a girl!" the boy yelled.

"Aye, and I'm sure she's tight like one too," one of the men holding me said.

"You're a brute, Malick," the boy said, "I'd not let you touch her."

"Figure yourself a man, boy?" the man said, and he let go of me.

The next thing I noticed was blood sprayed on my face. 

The world became black and I noticed nothing else. I awoke in a cold room. Immediately realizing that my family was gone, I began to cry. I cried and cried and wished I could die as well. I was probably captured by pirates or slavers. My life was over. 

After crying until I could no more, I noticed that I still had an my dress from that day, except it was no longer sticky with blood and it smelt of seawater. I had bandages on my arms.

I walked to the door, terrified. They had not chained me down. Mayhaps I could escape, or drown myself in the sea.

I opened the door and saw nothing. I walked down a dark hall, where I noticed on the deck dozens of the attackers, adjusting sails and talking. Most of them were dirty.

A woman me saw me and turned and called out "Brynden! She's awake," in a strange accent.

Immediately men surrounded me and pushed me back into my room. I curled in the bed, afraid of what was to happen to me.

Soon I heard a knock on the door and I froze. The door opened and a boy of maybe six-and-ten entered. He was of short messy black hair, and green eyes, mayhaps five foot ten. He looked like he was trying to think of words. He kept looking around and looking back at me, and every time he did I flinched.

"Your name? What is it?" he asked.

I paused. Now he looked angry.

"Tell me your name," he said firmly.

"J-Jo-Jocelyn," I stammered.

"Well, Jocelyn, I am Brynden," he said.

I didn't say anything. What could he want from me? I trembled at the thought.

"What are you to do me? What's happened? Where's father?" I eventually asked, trying not to cry.

"We raided your village. We're ironmen, your people would say. You're to be my salt wife," he told me.

I started crying again.

"What of father?" I got out.

He paused. "Your father is dead," he answered, before walking out and closing the door.

I cried again and did not feel like I would stop. I knew the stories of the ironmen who came to villages and killed and raped. It seemed a world away until they finally came to us, and took everything that I had.

I cried myself to sleep. When I woke, the same woman from earlier was there, removing the bandages from my arms. She had an ugly face and a permanent scowl, and short brown hair going down to her neck.

"You're a decent one," she said to me, looking at my face, "a pretty face, blonde hair. My son will like you."

"Your son?" I asked.

"Brynden," she answered. 

She continued removing my bandages, being more rough than I would have liked.

"I am to be his wife," I said aloud.

"His salt wife, green girl," she spat out, "he may have an rock wife when he finds the courage to take a girl he likes, or until I choose for him."

"W-what is a salt wife," I stammered.

She looked at me like I was stupid and I was afraid she would not answer.

"You will warm his bed and please him," she answered, "as a man of his name deserves. Maybe even give him a few sons."

"I will be his slave?" I asked, concerned and scared.

"You have much to learn, girl," she told me, before getting up and walking away.

I was panicked about it all. I only wanted to see Mother and Father again, yet I could not bring myself to cry. I only  kept quiet. Quiet as a thrall, as I was told to call it, served me fish and water. I was quiet as I felt the waves move my floor and make me sick. By the end of two days, I believed we made port.

Brynden entered again, dress in grey leather and hide.

He stopped and stared at me.

"I'm to take you outside," he told me.

I got up slowly and followed him out onto the deck and the dock. 

I saw an island, on which were menacing mountains and dark green hills. The sky was grey and windy. With ironmen on every corner, there was no escape. Not even to drown myself in the ocean.

"Welcome to Old Wyk," Brynden said, not looking at me.

I was led ashore, and seeing large and scary-looking ironmen staring at me, I kept my pace with Brynden, who at the very least did not seem as keen to violate me.

"Got yourself a prize there, do ye?" one grey-bearded man said, a smile on his face.

"Aye, Goodbrother, cuz you took the rest fuh yourself," Brynden answered.

The men laughed and I continued walking with Bryden. He led me to a horse and told me to jump on. Seeing that I was too short for such a task, he picked me up and put me on it.

He then jumped on behind me and rode us up a hill. Nagga's Hill, he called it.

We came to a grand castle, the largest I had ever seen since my family went to visit Highgarden. We entered the gates and he told me to get off. I looked around and saw few men and women around the keep. I was still. I did not know what would happen if I agreed to his wishes, to any of the desires of these murderers.

Seeing I would not get off, he went to grab me. I screamed. I was not sure if it was voluntary.

In response a few people looked to me and he stopped reaching for me.

"Mother, she won't come off," he yelled behind us. 

Immediately the same brown haired woman walked up to us.

"And that's supposed to stop you?" she said to him, anger in her voice, "if she won't do something, make her. Don't be so weak," she spat at him.

Brynden looked like he was trying to be emotionless, but she grabbed me before he could move toward me. Brynden now looked upset.

She grabbed me by my dress and spoke to Brynden, "go change and eat something. I'll have this one ready for you in the hour."

Brynden departed, his eyes cast down, and his mother took me to one protruding building in the Keep. She led me to a room with dresses on the bed and an open window. 

"Sit," she ordered, and I sat on the bed.

"My son is still a green boy, as much as I've tried to turn him iron," she said, searching through dresses. "Couldn't even imagine a little girl being taken in a raid. He's fortunate his name caused others to protect him from Aerion." Then she looked at me. "Now he's stuck with you," she said.

"W-why am I to be his wife?" I asked, still trying not to tear up.

"Salt wife," she responded, "And because I made him. The boy hardly lifted his axe in the battle, and had the nerve protect a girl. Well if he wants to protect some foreign girl like a salt wife, may as well make her one."

I was silent. I didn't want to say what was truly on my mind. As terrible and confusing as these last few days have been, my mind was still clear. 

"What if I don't want to be his wife?" I said quietly.

The woman stopped and looked at me. Then she smirked. Then she hit me across the face.

"You will be," she said, "or you'll be given to all the men who'd love to pull those pretty yellow locks of yours. Count your blessings, girl. You could be dead, or a tool to some old man. Instead you'll be salt wife to my fucking son, a terribly gentle boy, and you'll even be respected as consort to the future Lord Drumm."

I held my face, and looked at her, my eyes too tired to cry.

"Drumm?" I asked.

"Aye," she replied, "Brynden Drumm will be the next Lord of Old Wyk after his uncle dies. How lucky that my good-brother Daron only prefers boys. Aye, the seat shall pass to him, and you shall be his," she said, somewhat proudly.

She picked out a dress and made me wear it. I chose not to fight her.

It was nearly black outside, I could see from the window. The wind had calmed.

A man with a long beard and robes entered, telling me to follow him.

I did so, my head cast down, and he led me to the shore. He told me to walk into the sea. I walked and for a moment did not stop, until I was grabbed by a man. I turned around and saw it was Brynden.

"You may do that later," he said.

The man with the robes was a priest, Brynden said, of the Drowned God. I knew the ironmen worshipped a reaver and a killer as evil as they.

The ceremony was quick, with few in attendance. I spoke the words I was told to speak and salt water covered my head at some point. Our party entered a hall in the keep and began to eat. I allowed myself the meal. I hadn't eaten lamb in days.

Brynden sat next to me, and his mother sat next to a fat, greying man that Brynden told me was his uncle. I took my time to notice Brynden's expressions. He was sad, hardly touching his food. He seemed to inch himself as far from me as possible.

He didn't look like the rest of them. He couldn't be called ugly; and he was certainly less brash than the rest of them who hollered and laughed at the table. He didn't even look at me during the ceremony.

Suddenly Daron rose.

"I believe it is time for the bedding ceremony," Daron said. 

I froze. This is what I was afraid would happen. I just couldn't imagine it would happen after a wedding.

I was pulled by several men and had my dressed pulled off, and I screamed and kicked them. Yet I was unclothed by the end of it. They then pushed me into a room. 

The momentary calm I had during the feast was over and it felt like the attack all over again. I would be ravaged. I was breathing heavily and I saw Brynden enter the room, dressed in only his smallclothes.

"Stop," he said. "Stop, stop, stop crying!" He yelled.

I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"I won't touch you," he said, "so you can calm yourself and stop looking at me as a monster."

I stopped crying and felt my cheeks wet. I was confused.

Brynden sat on the bed and told me to sit down with him, which I regretfully did.

"I have no interest in fucking a crying little girl," he spat out, "so just sleep."

I laid on the bed and looked away from him. I thought about my mother, her pretty smile and kind voice, my father, and his hardy laugh, and my brother and his lovable, troublesome attitude. Remembering them, I fell to sleep peacefully.

I woke up and heard birds chirping. The bed was empty and walked out the room. A older woman named Jenny, who identified herself as a handmaiden, told me where to break my fast and followed me throughout the Keep, saying I needed to learn how things worked.

I walked into a dining hall and was given food, soup and oats. I ate my food quietly as Jenny explained ironborn ways and the history of House Drumm. It was all so foreign to me. The ironmen were a scary story; now they were my life.

I saw Brynden enter the hall, look to me, and walk away. Mayhaps he was a coward as his mother said. Mayhaps he was afraid of even me.

I spent the next several moons adjusting to everything. Jenny became my best friend, and always gave me a kind word when I needed it.

"There are benefits of a salt wife; less responsibility than a rock wife," Jenny said once, her hand in her dark hair.

"Aye," I said, "yet it is still involuntary." 

"Tis true," she said, "and I understand your pain, Jocelyn. But the ironborn ways are better than others. You're not a slave. You have rights."

"What of you, Jenny? Do you have such rights?" I asked.

"I'm a servant," she said, almost laughing, "not a reaver nor a wife. My life is simple, and I take joy where I can."

"In what?" I asked.

"Talking to you, Jocelyn," she said, a smile on her face, "it was terribly boring until you arrived."

"I appreciate it," I said. Then I had a thought, "who do you serve?" I asked.

"I serve House Drumm," she answered. "And now that includes you."

Brynden did not come to my bed, and after several days I gave up fear that he would enter one night. He only occasionally looked at me, said a few words, and left. He spent much of his time with his uncle and master-at-arms, I knew.

In truth I rarely saw Brynden, until one day his mother found me in the main hall. 

"Has my son fucked you?" she asked.

"I-I, my Lady," I got out.

"Silly boy," she said, upset. 

I thought she was about to yell at me but instead sat on a chair desk to the wall.

"Do you know what that is?" she asked, pointing up to the sword which hung on the wall.

"The sword of House Drumm, Red Rain," I said, reciting Jenny's lessons.

"Aye, but it was the sword of House Reyne, before a man of Drumm stole it in a raid," she said, "it will soon belong to Brynden. That sword means that we are a house that takes what we want, that our way is the true Old Way of the ironborn. But my son is too gentle. He'll never take it if he continues as he is. I have tried to raise him as his father would have, but I believe I might have failed."

"Failed?" I asked.

She walked up to me.

"The ironborn have an appetite like the sea has for swallowing ships," she said, "we are conquerors, and we enjoy the spoils of our raids." She moved my hair to the sides. I was looking up her. "I told him to take you as a salt wife like an ironborn should, yet he has refused, likely not wanting to hurt you. But listen to me, girl, you will tell him you want him, you will spread your legs, and you will tell him you like it. I won't have my son afraid of a little girl."

Afraid, I did I as I was told. I found Brynden walking through between the halls and told him I finally wished to have him in my bed.

Surprised, he followed me until we reached his room. 

I quickly removed my dress, trying to busy my mind and think about other things to calm me.

He stared at me, and I saw his breeches bulging. 

"Please take me, my lord," I said, and ran to the bed. I jumped on and waited for him, trying not to look nervous.

I opened my eyes and I saw that he was naked. He crawled on top of me and I tried to calm my breathing. Right when he was about to enter me, he stopped.

"I-I don't want to do this," he said, and rolled to the side.

"Have I done something wrong?" I asked.

"It's not you," he said, "I just don't enjoy the thought of taking a woman like she's my property."

I did not say anything to that. It would explain why he did not seem enjoy having me as a salt wife, why he took me from Aerion, why he didn't take me two days after my parents' death.

"You have a gentle soul," I said lovingly.

"No, I don't!" he yelled, "I'm a Drumm. Raping and reaving is in my blood. That's been our way for a thousand years and a thousand before that." Then he looked up, his expression unhappy like the words tasted badly on his tongue.

I was quiet. I touched his chest. He was sweet. Too sweet and handsome for this barbaric culture.

"I'm sorry your parents died," he said, finally calm.

"Thank you for that, at least," I told him.

From thereon we tried to get to know eachother. I learned that he loved apples and learned to fight at eight. I told him about my family and friends. Deciding to keep up the illusion, I slept in his bed. He still wouldn't take me, even as I felt him hard against my arse in his sleep.

I grew more comfortable in my new environment, as sick as it was to admit to myself. I got used to the smell of salt water. Old Wyk was large and storied, I learned. No one looked at me lecherously. Jenny and I grew even closer. And I even found friendship with Brynden.

When his mother died, I consoled him. A Lannister's sword through the back, one man told me. Brynden would not tell me how it happened even after he saw it firsthand. As I held him in my arms I wondered if my family could imagine me where I am now.

It took several tries, at me simply growing restless, for him to finally take my maidenhead. He was gentle about it, and spilled his seed quickly. Yet on his sleeping face I saw him smile.

I slowly found myself falling for him, despite myself. It was captive's curse, I knew. And I fell victim to it.

 

Now it is nine years since the death of my parents. The girl I was grew into a woman, hard and experienced.

Brynden came to Old Wyk after several moons gone. He entered the hall, his beard full and his chest strong, dressed in black leather and furs. He stood now at six feet and three. My husband had grown from the boy he was. 

He put Red Rain back on its mount on the wall. I walked behind him, my arms crossed.

"Were you successful?" I asked.

He turned around, a smile on his face.

"Jocelyn," he said, and pulled me into a kiss, his hands on my cheeks, "it's been too long."

"Aye," I said, "I hope it was worth it. Torrhen has been asking about you, and Joyce misses her father."

"The boy wishes to go with me next time, does he not?" he asked.

Brynden knew how much I despised the idea of my son raiding.

"Tis true but-" I was cut off.

"Jos, you know he will have to learn eventually," he said to me, his face serious.

It was true. Brynden never took a rock wife, as much as his liege lords demanded of him. Torrhen would be his son and heir.

I turned my head to the side, and he kissed my neck. I allowed him to touch me so. It had been so long.

"We can talk of this later," he said, "right now I need my wife."

"Salt wife, you mean, and you intend to use her like one," I told him.

Brynden stopped and looked at me sullenly. When he saw that I was smirking at him, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulders.

He walked me to our bed while I feigned  kicking and begged him to put me down. 

He threw me on the bed and pulled off my dress, and kissed me. I pulled his breeches down with feet. 

He entered me quickly and I let out a moan, which he captured with his mouth.

He began thrusting into me, sending me over the edge and making me scream in pleasure. 

Feeling his cock twitch inside me, my walls tightened and I screamed into his ear. He released his seed inside me, and still continued his hard thrusts.

Afterwords, both of us breathless, he rolled onto his back and I touched his chest, enjoying the sweat on his body.

"I don't want my son to be a killer," I told him finally.

"Neither do I. But sons are meant to follow the ways of their fathers," he said, looking into my eyes with love. Huffing, he asked me: "Am I a good man, Jocelyn?"

"I should be living in the Reach right now, tending to fields and worrying about harvests. No, Brynden, you're not," I said, "but you have a good heart."

He left during the night. I was pretending to sleep, waiting for him to do what he always did after he came home.

I walked to the window and saw Brynden carrying a little blonde girl on his shoulders. They were playing. Apparently Joyce wanted to use him as a horse, commanding him around while laughing, and Brynden made silly horse noises and laughed with her.

No, Brynden, I know you're not a good man. But that's the way I see you.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about this, so I wrote it. It should have been longer. I might make a longer one later. Or do a story about Falia Flowers.


End file.
